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The rolling plains and desert sweep from the western horizon to the eastern horizon and as far as the eye can see north and south. Right in the center is a small town that would be something like an unmarked dot on a map of Texas. Lonesome Dove. To the north, east, west, and south of the western town lie various wild horse herds, mainly mustang with a few other breeds diluted in some of their bloodlines. They live here, roaming free but must be ever-vigilant to keep their wits about them. They must be hardy and swift to elude capture and still maintain a suitable lifestyle of the daily herd life.
There is the ever-present threat of humanity, but they see themselves as far from a threat. A good, free-ranging people dwell here, coming and going with their wild, carefree ways. These lands are not for the faint of heart but for the wonderful people who make up the romantic story of the Wild West, frontier farmers, ranchers, beautiful young women to tempt the rough-living cowboys and drovermen. A fine place to be, a fine place to make a new start. Outlaws are generally kept in line by sheriffs but even sheriffs are sometimes outwitted. So if you ever come wandering, lone horsebackridier, stop by and rest in the little town of Lonesome Dove.
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